


i'm finally at peace (but it feels wrong)

by hollow_city



Series: broken hearts & twisted minds [12]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Also kind of, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Insecurity, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 16:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11604441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_city/pseuds/hollow_city
Summary: when he tried to express himself with words, he could never get it right. but with his hands, he could shape things, mold things, and make things.[in which damian wants his family to understand how he feels, but words just won't cut it.]





	i'm finally at peace (but it feels wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't intend for this one to be so long, but i needed to include everybody, so it just ended up that way. title is from the lovely song silhouettes by of monsters and men.

_**When he tried to express himself with words, he could never get it right. But with his hands, he could shape things, mold things, and make things. He had discovered this when he discovered that**_ he was no longer capable of expressing the emotions he wished for others to see without feeling wrong, out of place; like he would be punished. No matter how many times Grayson informed him that it was fine, it still didn't make a difference.

He hated his not-brothers for taking cracks at his stunted sense of feeling; his inability to understand and portray emotions. He was raised around people who were nearly non-human, people who never valued life as anything more than a way to obtain a reward. 

So it began to bother him. And he wanted to change it, but he told no one this. Not even Titus, who he explained everything to. 

He would watch his not-family interact with each other, with friends, even with strangers; observed the way they reacted to things and tried to replicate it. He would practice  _feeling,_ but it wasn't working.

So, he tried something else. He tried to show how he felt a different way. 

He began to create things.

When Father mentioned that his parents would have loved to meet all of them on the anniversary of their death, he drew him a sketch of Grayson, Todd, Drake, Cain, and himself with his grandparents. He wasn't sure if he got their faces just right because he'd never had the chance to meet them, but he left the drawing on Father's desk anyway. He didn't sign it, but he knew Father knew, because he hugged him for four seconds longer than usual.

(He counted.)

Then, when Grayson spent an entire patrol chattering his ear off about the circus and got misty-eyed about Zitka, the elephant, he tried his hand at sculpting. He pilfered a picture from Grayson's apartment of Zitka, and two days later, the picture was back in its spot, and a shiny, small, dark gray, elephant now took up space on the shelf.

He didn't leave a name that time either, but when Grayson showed up two days later and demanded to spend the whole day in the city with him, he took it as a victory. 

It was harder to show his appreciation towards Todd because he didn't spend enough time around him to understand how. He wished he could make Todd understand; they were the most alike among the four not-brothers. He was born into killing, he didn't have much of a choice. Todd was reborn into killing, and he didn't have much of a choice either.

Todd was weighed down by choices he'd made in the past, choices he didn't have much input in. Damian was weighed down by choices he had made in the past, choices he didn't have any input in.

So, yeah, he did understand Todd, just a little bit. And he wanted to make the older man see that, but how was he supposed to do that? Todd was never around and he made it perfectly clear that he did  _not_ like him. So he had to improvise.

He also decided that it was high time he tried painting.

He spent every moment he was near Todd paying close attention to what the man talked about. And after an entire week of discreet observation, he came up with a reoccurring theme: Todd's teammates, Koriand'r and Roy Harper. Based on the look on Todd's face and the way he spoke about them, he deeply respected and appreciated them.

That was why, when Todd woke up on the morning of his birthday, he discovered that someone had snuck in the night before, and placed an incredibly realistic and well-done painting of the Outlaws. It was post-battle and all three of them looked exhausted and worn, but they were laughing, and it was a fond memory. 

Again, no signature, but Todd still ruffled his hair and called him  _Damian_ for the first time in a long time.

When it came to Drake, it was surprisingly easy. They were alone together in the cave and Drake was running on empty after three days of no sleep. The first thing he did was express the concerns  _that he definitely did not have_ through snark and a sneer, but Drake didn't even acknowledge his presence. So next, he went upstairs, brewed a pot of Drake's favorite coffee, and brought it down to him.

Drake was tired enough to look surprised but took it anyway. And because he didn't feel like he'd gotten his point across, he sat beside Drake with his legs crossed and his notebook balanced on his knees. He pretended not to notice the looks Drake continuously cast him and continued his drawing. 

By the time Drake had fallen asleep at the keyboard, Damian had finished. He tore it from his notebook and left it beneath the empty coffee cup. 

No signature, but after discovering the pencil sketch of Father and Drake together, the next night, Drake asked to be paired with him, and they all bought his frown of displeasure when Father agreed. Except for Drake. 

Pennyworth was the easiest. He spent quite a lot of time around the old butler, so he had a fairly good idea about what was most important to him. That was why on father's day, a painting appeared on the wall of Pennyworth's room, depicting detailed versions of Father, his three... brothers, his sister, and himself.

No signature. But Pennyworth's normally passive expression was replaced with a vaguely pleased one for the rest of the day.

Cain was different, because he didn't know how exactly to express his admiration, because she was not necessarily one for physical possessions. She preferred meaningful things. This was why he'd been nervous to leave her the second sculpture he'd ever made.

But he didn't need to be nervous because when Cain discovered the shiny, pure black ballerina that looked suspiciously like her on her bedside table, she had been immensely pleased.

Still no signature, and she was the one to show him the most affection in return. She approached him the next day, wrapped him in a hug, rested her cheek against the top of his head, and whispered a quiet,  _thank you, little brother._

He flushed, even though he tried quite hard not to, and hid his embarrassment under annoyance. She saw right through him and he pretended not to realize that.

And once he was done showing his family that he  _could_ and he  _did_ care, he came to a realization.

He  _did_ know how to feel. He, the  _monster_ , the  _brat_ , the  _worst in the family_ , could feel. 

Because that tightening in his chest and that obnoxious urge his mouth had to twitch upwards?

That just  _might_ have been love.

(But he would never admit that.) 


End file.
